


Tired Of The Night

by psyduckappears



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: 1990s, Angst, Bisexual Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Luke gives him one, M/M, Makeup, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of alcoholism, Pansexual Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Reggie Peters needs a hug, Sleep Deprivation, Some crying, Sunset Curve (Julie and The Phantoms), basically Reggie's parents suck again, because they're them, i hate them, i'm a sappy idiot, several actually, some Reggie whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28638981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyduckappears/pseuds/psyduckappears
Summary: When Reggie first starts hiding his tired eyes under makeup, Luke soon realises there is something more behind it than a new look (quite literally, actually); something he knows Reggie isn't too keen on talking about. So, he leaves it alone. Until he can't anymore.Or: I'm sorry I'm always mean to Reggie and use it as a set-up for 1) Luke comforting him and 2) getting these two together, but come on. It's a sweet trope. I'm a sappy bish and projecting.
Relationships: Luke Patterson/Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 262





	Tired Of The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to whoever in this fandom introduced the idea of Luke calling Reggie bug because it gives me life.  
> Also, I wrote this instead of sleeping and/or studying, so enjoy this product of my first Crippling Depression Friday of 2021!

Reggie thought it was a secret, but Luke knew exactly what it meant when his best friend turned up to school or to rehearsal wearing makeup. It was always subtle because at least school wasn’t entirely safe for a boy with makeup, but for someone who spent as much time examining every inch of Reggie’s face every day as Luke did, it was easy to spot the difference. The smooth texture of it, the way his blushes seemed somewhat dimmed (and Reggie flushed a lot, no matter how suave he liked to act) – Luke saw, recognised, realised. At first, Luke had just thought he was trying something new, and although he would miss making Reggie’s face go all red at something he would say to him, he would also kind of wish he’d try eyeliner next, or lipstick, or… he was getting off track.

After a while, maybe three months after he had noticed for the first time, Luke realised that the days Reggie wore makeup were also the days where he was particularly distractable, the same days he spent suppressing one yawn after the other. To be honest, and he was a little ashamed of that, it had only dawned on him when Reggie fell asleep next to him on the couch while they were waiting for the others to get to the studio. Well. At least he had realised. The next thing he had realised was that makeup days were becoming more and more frequent with every week passing.

Luke didn’t know what was going on in Reggie’s home life. All he knew was that he had used to come over every other day when they were kids, and one day, Reggie had started to ask to go to Luke’s instead. That, and that this was definitely connected in some way to the makeup thing. He didn’t like it at all.

Because he knew Reggie, whether he opened up about his parents or not, Luke also knew that he couldn’t just ask him about it. Luke was straightforward like that. He wanted to know something, he asked. He wanted to talk about something, he talked. If he asked Reggie why he was always so tired that he needed makeup to hide the bags under his eyes, he would either stop wearing makeup or make an even better effort at hiding his exhaustion, effectually closing himself off more than ever. Instead of taking that risk, he started to watch Reggie. _Alright_ , he had already been watching Reggie, but he started watching him more. Whenever he noticed a particularly high number of yawns in a relatively short time, and every single time Reggie was wearing the cursed makeup that Luke now realised was also hiding increased paleness on especially bad days, he found a way to offer help without – well, without actually offering help. (If there was one thing Luke knew that Reggie was secretly afraid of, it was being a burden to anyone. Even Luke. It sort of broke his heart a little bit.) He would bring him coffee, pretending it had been originally for him, but he didn’t like the taste that day. He would tell Reggie rehearsal was an hour before it actually was so he could take a nap on the couch while they waited for the others. He would take notes for him when he spaced out in class. Always, he would ask if he wanted to come over later, to study, or to write songs, or just to hang out, and then keep him occupied so long that he practically couldn’t say no to spending the night.

What could he say? He was a sly genius.

Tonight was one of these nights. Luke was sitting at his mess of a desk, bent over calculus, while Reggie was lying on Luke’s bed with a copy of _The Tempest_ that he was expected to finish by the end of the week but just couldn’t seem to get behind. It was only half past eight, but Luke could see from his spot how Reggie was fighting to keep his eyes open and focussed. After a particularly kitten-like yawn sounded from the heaps of blankets Reggie was almost drowning in, Luke shut his textbook, turned off his desk lamp, and stretched his arms. He wasn’t getting anything done anyway, and his math grade was beyond saving.

“Move over,” he said, already pushing Reggie a little to the side so he could lie down next to him. “And give me that.”

“Hey,” Reggie said lamely when Luke took the little paperback from his outstretched fingers. “I was reading that.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I _have_ to read that. English is like one of the two classes I don’t suck at.”

“We’ll rent the movie tomorrow after school,” Luke promised, discarding the book on the floor. Reggie was looking at him, eyes heavy, and their faces were so close that Luke could have reached out and just… you know. A smudged bit of makeup near the bridge of Reggie’s nose distracted him from the thought and made him wish all over he could just ask. Could reach out and wipe it all away. _You don’t need to hide from me._

“How do you even know there is one?” There was that lazy smile on his face that he always wore with Luke when their conversation was easy and light. It told him that he knew exactly that Luke didn’t know if there was a movie. He was just making excuses – even if not for the reasons Reggie probably believed. (See, it was true that Luke needed a lot of attention from his friends – but that wasn’t _all_ there was to him. He had substance. For proof, consider this entire situation.)

“It’s Shakespeare. There is a movie.”

“What if they don’t have it at the video store?”

“Then,” Luke said, turning to his side for an easier view of his friend. “I will personally read the entire thing to you.”

Reggie let out a laugh. It was a great sound, better than a newly-tuned guitar and much better than your favourite band on full volume. It was bubbly, and it was happy, and it was Reggie. He laughed this laugh much more often when they were alone or with the band than when they were at school because he was self-conscious about his teeth. Write it up to Reggie’s incredible obliviousness that despite this, he still hadn’t realised that the love song Luke had written and then named _Crooked Teeth_ was about him. Hearing this laugh made Luke feel warm and at home, more than lying in his own bed already did.

“I wanna see that,” Reggie teased, grin still lingering on his lips. “Luke Patterson, rising L.A. rock star, reciting Shakespeare in his bedroom.”

“The things I would do for you.” It came out more sincere than he would have liked to admit, but Reggie snorted and gently shoved his shoulder.

“You only want me to stop reading because you’re bored.”

“Come on,” Luke said softly. “You were about to fall asleep and drop that thing on your face.”

“That happened one time.” Luke grinned at the petulant expression, doing his best to keep himself together. Reggie was always cute, but now it was next to unbearable. So close, eyelids drooping despite the early hour. Even blinking came slowly when he was like this, and his black lashes brushed against his light skin more often than they didn’t.

“D’you want to go to bed?” Luke half-whispered after a moment. Reggie frowned, though it wasn’t very convincing.

“It’s still early.”

“Yeah, but I’m really tired,” Luke said. “Didn’t get much sleep last night I guess.”

Reggie hummed, not making a move to get up and ready, or to do anything else, really. Luke smiled at him. “You should probably take the makeup off if you don’t want to spread it all over my bed.”

“Who says that’s not exactly what I want?”

“It’s probably really bad for your skin to sleep in makeup,” Luke pointed out, even though he really didn’t mind if Reggie coloured his pillow. If he was completely honest, he was just curious if Reggie would take it off in front of him. He hadn’t, the last few times. Luke had been too cautious to ask.

It was a strange thing, being cautious. Luke wasn’t used to it, especially around Reggie, who had been his best friend for _ever_. Except, lately, maybe he had gotten a little used to it. With all these feelings and realisations and the looming factor of Reggie, at least he had never said anything to the contrary, being straight.

“Okay,” Reggie sighed and sluggishly pushed himself up into a sitting position with the help of his arms. Luke wondered every time Reggie borrowed one of his numerous sleeveless shirts where he got arms like that when he never seemed to work out. Maybe he was doing it in secret, just to torture Luke. They were pretty nice arms, lean muscle and smooth skin and – Reggie disappeared into the hallway. Then, Luke remembered what tonight had originally been supposed to be about.

He wanted to ask Reggie. About the makeup, that is. It had been over half a year of this secretly helping him, and while Luke was still worried that maybe he would pull away, wouldn’t accept his help once he knew he was getting it – he _needed_ to know. What was keeping Reggie up so much that he couldn’t get in enough sleep? Why couldn’t he talk about it with his best friend? How could he really, _permanently_ help him? He needed to know. There was no way around it.

Before too long, Reggie came back into the room, clad from head to toe in Luke’s slightly-too-big clothes, and Luke kind of wanted to forget about his plan and kiss him senseless. He had never understood why it was such a big thing in the movies when the girl wore a guy’s shirt in the morning, but now, he thought, he got it. Not that Reggie was a girl – but they didn’t exactly make movies about guys doing that. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if guys _did_ do that. He hoped so. It made his heart swell. For a moment, he let himself dream. It became harder to let the moment come to an end when Reggie lay back down in the dent he had left in the blanket and smiled at Luke like everything was just perfectly normal. A little shuffling and they were both under the covers. It took him a moment, but he finally did manage to snap out of it.

Luke had known there would be bags under his eyes, had known all along they were the reason for the makeup, and he knew just as well that Reggie expected him to ignore them. They were so much worse than he had thought, even in the dim light of the little lamp on his bedside table. Dark circles, almost purple, almost like a bruise from a fight, forming a stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. He wanted to reach out and smooth them over with his fingertips, like he wanted to smooth out his frowns whenever Luke and Bobby got loud in a fight. Reggie hated fighting.

Since he couldn’t do either of these things, Luke took a deep breath and asked the question that had been burning on his mind for ages.

“Reg,” he whispered into the quiet that had settled between them. Reggie hummed, not breaking eye contact. That would change soon, Luke thought faintly. “Why are you always so exhausted?”

“What do you mean?”

Luke very decidedly did not give him a look, even though he really wanted to. Either way, Reggie wouldn’t have seen it – as predicted, he had averted his eyes. “You’re tired all the time. I know that’s why you wear makeup so much.”

“Does it bother you? That I wear makeup?”

Luke sighed. “No, of course not. I just want to know what’s going on, dude.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Reggie said into the soft fabric of the pillow. Once, in an unfiltered moment, Reggie had told him he liked the smell of the softeners his mother used on the laundry, and Luke had made sure since that she never changed brands.

“Reg.”

“Let’s go to sleep.”

“As soon as you’ve told me what keeps you up so much. It’s okay, you know. You can tell me anything, whatever it is.”

For a moment, Reggie hesitated, saying nothing. He was still looking down, somewhere just past Luke’s face, and Luke fought the urge to physically force him to look at him. Then, he let out a tiny breath. It wasn’t enough to be a sigh. “You’ve known all this time?”

“For months.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“You hate asking for help.” Luke shrugged. “You wouldn’t have accepted mine if there was any way to think I was offering it out of obligation. That you’re a burden. And you always find a way to think that.”

“I’m usually right,” Reggie mumbled. He had expected it, but Luke was still shocked. Maybe a little hurt, too. Misguided romantic interest set aside, this was still his best and oldest friend.

“You still think I’m only – Do you know how difficult it was to spend all this time coming up with ways to help you without you noticing? How hard it was to watch you dead on your feet every day, knowing that I couldn’t be there for you because you wouldn’t let me?” Although he hadn’t raised his voice, Reggie stared at Luke like he’d just screamed at him in front of a room full of people. This, too, broke his heart a little bit. With care, he tried to bring all his good intentions back into his eyes. It wouldn’t do to make Reggie feel even worse. “This isn’t about me, Reg. I’m not mad at you for not telling me, I promise, I’m just a little frustrated. But you need to understand that’s because I _want_ to help you. I really do. I want you to be okay, and I want to be there when you’re not to make it better.”

“I do understand that,” Reggie said. This time, Luke did give him a look. Even though he was still not looking at him, Reggie seemed to know what Luke was thinking. “Really, I do. At least, like, in theory. It’s not like I think you don’t care.”

“But you kind of still think that.”

“It’s just… it’s like every time I think about talking to you or the guys about … something like this, there’s that voice in my head that tells me I shouldn’t.”

Luke did reach out, now, gently tapping his index against Reggie’s nose like his mother had used to do for him when he was little. It had always made him laugh, probably still would, and it worked on Reggie just as well. The tired smile back on his lips made Luke’s stomach flutter with giddy success. This was already going much better than he’d feared. “What does it say will happen if you do?”

“It’s stupid.”

“If it tells you not to talk to me, it must be,” Luke grinned. “Come on, bug.”

“Don’t call me that,” Reggie said, a smile growing. His skin tinted beautifully red now, and _god_ Luke knew why he’d missed seeing it.

“You love it. Now, talk. _Bug._ ”

“It’s just… you know. The usual. They’ll think you’re annoying, they’ll think you’re too high-maintenance, or whatever.”

“That’s not the usual,” Luke said, holding Reggie’s gaze in hopes of keeping his eyes up and on him. They were pretty. He really should pitch that eyeliner idea, though he didn’t know how long he’d survive with a view like that. The mental image in itself was enough to make his insides liquefy. “The usual is fighting over pizza toppings until I’m picking pineapple off my slice. Or you giving me your cheesy-ass country songs. Or hanging out at the beach at night. Don’t call something that sucks so much the usual. The usual should be all good things.”

“Picking pineapple off pizza is good now?” Reggie asked, clearly not getting Luke’s point.

“If I have you there to eat it, sure,” Luke smiled, genuinely. “That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna fight you over it every single time, though. The point is, I’m not getting bored of you, or annoyed, or whatever, anytime soon. Ever, really. I’m not about to force you to tell me anything, but… you can. Anytime, anything.”

“Yeah, okay. I – I do want to. I’ve just never, you know.”

“No rush,” Luke said, even though he was feeling very rushed. He had the dreadful feeling that if he didn’t get Reggie to spill it all now, everything would go back to the way it had been by morning.

“It’s… It’s my parents.” There it was. The question mark that had been looming between them for years. “They fight. A lot.”

“Oh.” Luke’s mother fought, too, but never with his father.

“Yeah. And sometimes it goes on for a while, and they’re really loud. And sometimes they, uhm. They get really drunk. So I kind of… take care of them, you know?”

There was really nothing else for him to do but pull Reggie closer and hold him against his chest. Almost immediately, most tension seemed to fall off Reggie when Luke’s arm was draped around him, but Luke still felt pretty helpless. He didn’t know what he had expected, and now that he knew what was going on, he didn’t know what to say. His fingers ran through Reggie’s hair more or less automatically.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“It’s okay,” Reggie sighed against his shoulder. It was followed by a long yawn that said the opposite. “I just end up not getting enough sleep sometimes, and then I didn’t want to go to school looking like a ghost. I knew you’d get worried.”

“You know, you’re not the one who’s supposed to look after them. At least not until they’re old and grey and falling over nothing.”

“They do sometimes fall over nothing,” Reggie joked, but it came out a little pathetic. Luke flinched at the mental image. He knew he should have asked earlier, but… no time like the present.

“Have they ever… you know?”

“What?” Reggie asked. By the way he tensed right back up again, Luke had trouble believing it to be genuine, which in turn made _him_ tense. He wouldn’t be lying about it if it had never happened.

“Have your parents ever… hurt you. Physically.” The silence was a moment to long, so Luke went right back in. “They have, haven’t they.”

“They don’t mean to,” Reggie whispered, each word so careful and fragile that, _again_ , it broke Luke’s heart a little. It was terrifying how easily Reggie could do that these days, even without even toeing the line to romance. Without even knowing Luke wanted him to, secretly.

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“It’s… I just sometimes get between them at a bad time, or something. It’s not always a smart idea when they’re drunk, but then when I’m so tired, I really just want them to go to _sleep_.” It sounded, though he couldn’t be sure with how quietly Reggie was speaking even as his voice got quicker and quicker, as if he were on the verge of tears. Luke didn’t know the last time Reggie had cried in front of him. He didn’t remember the last time he had let himself be like this with Luke at all, open and honest and vulnerable. And cuddly, his teenage brain supplied unhelpfully. Reggie clutched to Luke with just as much _need_ as Luke clutched to Reggie at this moment, warm, bare arms wrapped around one another, feet tangled. Luke’s hand still in Reggie’s hair, Reggie’s buried in the back of his shirt.

_Back to the point, Luke._

“Next time they fight, just come right over here, and you can sleep here, okay?” he offered, knowing that there was no point in trying to make Reggie understand how much this wasn’t his fault at the moment. “No matter how late it is. Just knock at the window.”

“They’re my parents, Luke.” Now, Reggie really was crying. Luke could feel the wetness on his shoulder.

“Exactly.”

“I can’t just leave them alone.”

“If they can’t handle themselves, they shouldn’t drink,” Luke pointed out, pulling away a little. Reggie was hesitant to look at him again, but he had time. Besides, when did he ever get to be so close to him? He could have counted each freckle on his nose at that moment. Every fleck of brown in his glassy green eyes. Even on stage, there would be more space between them. “And you shouldn’t have to take care of drunk people before you’re even _allowed_ to drink yourself.”

“But they do drink,” Reggie said, taking his hand back from where it had been draped over Luke’s torso (and god, Luke had to actively keep himself from making any undignified noises when the warmth disappeared from his skin) to wipe away the tears staining his face. “And I do have to take care of them.”

“You really don’t. And you shouldn’t because it’s only going to make them think it’s okay what they’re doing. And then you’ll fall asleep on our next gig, and we’ll need to replace you.” Reggie gaped at him at that, making Luke laugh, gently. “Relax. We’d sooner have you sleep on stage than replace you.”

“You’re a sap,” Reggie laughed.

“Well, it’s true. But we’d _much_ rather have you awake and rocking the stage with us. What kind of rock band would we be if one of us was sleeping, hm? So please just promise me that you’ll get out of there next time they’re keeping you up, and then we can finally go to sleep.”

“It’s not even that late,” Reggie mumbled, directly followed by another long, _endearing_ yawn. It was all Luke could do not to just jump him right there.

“So you’ve said,” he said instead, smile in place. As gently as humanly possible, he lifted his hand and wiped a stray tear from where it hid under Reggie’s lashes. Luke couldn’t tell if Reggie was still red from crying, or if the blush had really just darkened a little, but he couldn’t help trying to make him only a tiny bit more flustered. He’d been deprived for too long, clearly. “Promise, bug.”

It worked. Reggie hid his face in his hands with a frustrated groan, but Luke could see the colour crawl up his neck and all the way down to his shoulders. He grinned.

“Only if you stop calling me that.”

“Not going to happen.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re adorable.” Which, okay. That was a bit more than he had intended to say, but who could blame him with a boy like this so close to him? He _was_ adorable. Luke wasn’t going to apologise for it. It was entirely Reggie’s fault.

“I hate you,” Reggie mumbled into his palms, which were still covering his face. It was really a shame. Luke missed the view. He should do something about it, he thought and pinched Reggie in the side, knowing he was ticklish. He got a high-pitched but quiet squeak in return, and finally, Reggie took his hands down to glare at him.

“No, you don’t.”

“Sadly, you’re right.”

“I’m still waiting for that promise,” Luke said, softly, and Reggie’s glare disappeared for a small, budding smile. Looking at it led to getting hung up on his lips, and Luke only managed to move his eyes back up (really subtle, Patterson) when Reggie finally answered.

“O-okay,” he said, suddenly all the way back to flustered, eyes wider than they’d been all evening. It took Luke a moment to realise why he was looking at him like this.

He’d obviously seen him look at his lips.

_Okay. Okay, how do we fix this?_

“I-“ he started, now probably just as red in the face as Reggie himself was. His mind was racing for a way to make this make sense, or to direct the attention some other way, but he was coming up empty-handed. He swallowed, heavily, and hoped sincerely that Reggie would write it off to Luke’s tired brain. Except, as he had so wisely noted, it wasn’t even that late. _Luke_ had no reason to be that tired. “Cool! Good. Good we’ve, uh. Settled this.”

“Yeah,” Reggie said, slowly. There was something in his voice Luke that couldn’t identify but definitely meant that Reggie had interpreted it the one way Luke had hoped he wouldn’t. He wasn’t looking at Reggie’s face anymore, now, although with their close proximity it was kind of hard to look anywhere else.

“So, I guess let’s go to sleep then.” With a quick motion, he turned around to his other side to turn off the light. He didn’t turn back to face Reggie, only internally cursed himself every way the English language had to offer.

After a couple of seconds, Reggie spoke back up. “Luke?”

“Hm?”

“Can you… could you turn around for a moment?”

And oh, dear, that couldn’t mean anything good. _Let me look at you while I break your heart, please. You know, like you do when you find out your best friend thinks about kissing you._

Luke chuckled, and even to himself, he sounded a little unstable. Still, he agreed because what was he going to do? It wasn’t like he’d have been able to deny this boy anything. “Sure, buddy.”

The moment he had settled back into his original position, he felt Reggie’s hand featherlight on his jaw. The next, he felt his breath on his lips. His own breathing, as to be expected, did a bit of a double-take.

“D’you think I could…” Reggie whispered. There was something unsure in it, but he went on despite it. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Luke kind of wished he hadn’t turned off the light, if only so his eyes could confirm what his ears were telling him. Maybe a little to see the look on Reggie’s face at that moment. Maybe a tiny bit to look into his eyes again as he whispered back, desperately. “Yes.”

Reggie’s lips were slow against his, warm like the rest of him, and much, much softer than Luke’s. Reggie kissed him like he couldn’t believe he was allowed, and Luke kissed back like he couldn’t believe it wasn’t obvious (because this was Reggie, for fucks sake, and how could anyone _not_ be in love with someone so soft, so kind, so beautiful, so funny, so caring, so –). When they pulled apart, Reggie’s hand was still cradling his face, and Luke put his own on top, peeled it off, and pressed it against his lips.

“You know, bug, if you wanted me to shut up earlier, you could have just done that right away.”

 _Now_ , Reggie laughed. Big, hearty, and entirely Reggie, and Luke wished again that he’d left the light on so he could see that toothy laugh that the world got far too little of.

“I kinda wish I had.”

“I don’t.”

“Me neither,” Reggie admitted, before shuffling (impossibly) closer, burying his face in his shoulder and putting his arm back around Luke, whose heart was full beyond compare with all the implications of this. Reggie wanted him there. Wanted him to be there for him, even if he had to bully him into opening up. He pressed his lips to the top of Reggie’s head, soft hair tickling his skin, and smiled.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. “Good night, bug.”

“Don’t call me bug,” Reggie mumbled back, already half asleep.


End file.
